Ghost in the Machine, or Back At It Again
by Spense
Summary: A short, fun Gordon piece following in the aftermath of 'Who's in Trouble Now'. Gordon's back at it again. One-shot.


Ghost in the Machine, or Back At It Again

By Spense

Disclaimer: Don't own, no money made, etc.

This one is for Boomercat, who asked for more Gordon.

Summary: Fun short Gordon story following in the aftermath of 'Who's in Trouble Now'. Gordon makes the most of his discovery of his younger brother's abilities.

"Alan."

"What."

"I've got an idea."

"Leave me out of it."

"No, I need you on this one."

"Your last idea got me seriously pounded by three older brothers and by Dad."

"Come on, live dangerously. Besides that was months ago."

"No. You're too old for him to paddle. I'm not. Scott got me too the last time."

"Chicken."

"I like to be able to sit down. Besides, I'm usually your target. Why ask me?"

"After the travel computer virus you wrote? Give me a break. I need your brain."

"No."

"You'll like it. Don't you want to get back at some brothers?"

"Yeah, you."

"Asshole. Besides, You're safe on Thunderbird 5."

Silence.

"Promise."

"Okay, let's hear it. Then I'll decide."

TB TB TB TB TB

Life was definitely quieter on Tracy Island. Alan was home and recovering nicely from his two months away and his bout with Spinal Meningitis So nicely in fact that ithad become nearly impossible to keep him quiet enough to recuperate. Jeff Tracy had been nearly at wits end until his son John had suggested that Alan accompany him back to International Rescue Space Station, Thunderbird 5. After the eventful Spring Break where Alan had helped rescue his family, earning him his International Rescue pin, Jeff had already had it in mind to send him up there to get a feel for space and the communications side of IR. And John was steady enough to help with his training.

However, Jeff had pretty much decided against the plan after Alan's recent voluntary disappearance, wanting to keep his son close to him. But Alan was going to be sick again if he didn't slow down, and John's suggestion had had the double merit of being able to keep him quiet, as well as furthering his training. Especially as Alan had developed an interest in space during his forays in the library. So, an excited Alan was up on Thunderbird 5 with John (and a lot of science fiction books to help keep him quiet), and Tracy Island was much more serene. Unfortunately, Jeff had forgotten his second youngest son, Gordon.

Gordon, bored to death after manning Thunderbird Five so John could be on the ground, and having restrained himself remarkably well while Alan was ill, was itching to create a few waves. And after overhearing a brief conversation between two of his older brothers about a past school expulsion, he knew just who his target would be, and how.

TB TB TB TB TB

Scott pounded the side of his computer. Locked up again. Geez, these things really had it in for him today. First the vidphone, now his computer.

"Scott," Jeff poked his head into his eldest son's sitting room. "I need that report!"

"I know, Dad," Scott added in frustration. "My computer keeps locking up."

"Then use mine!"

"Okay, okay."

Scott followed action to words, and was soon seated behind his father's computer in Jeff's study, logged in, and pounding on that machine as well.

Hearing the noise, Gordon poked his head in. "You okay?"

"Oh, just peachy," Scott growled. "These things hate me today."

Gordon threw up his hands and retreated. "Just checking."

TB TB TB TB TB

Virgil, Gordon and Scott headed down the underground tunnel to Thunderbird 2's hanger. At the door, Scott keyed the security code, then nearly walked into the door when it didn't open.

"What the . . .: Scott tried it again. Nothing.

Virgil looked at him strangely. Reaching around him, he keyed the code, and the door slid open. "Your losing it, bro."

"Getting senile," Gordon agreed.

"No, I punched it in right," his older brother protested, following him through.

"Uh-huh, yeah right."

"Shut up, Gordon," Virgil growled.

"Oh right, side with Scott on everything," Gordon reported.

"Shut up, Gordon," Scott snapped.

TB TB TB TB TB

"It's working perfectly."

"You sure?"

"Yep. Perfect."

"I am so dead."

"No, you're not. He doesn't suspect a thing."

Silence.

"Now it's my turn."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll tell you, but I need you to do one thing first."

Silence.

Suspicious. ". . . What?"

"Just . . . expand what you've done a little. I need a couple of specific things."

"No."

"Oh, come on. Weenie."

"John will be suspicious. Remember, I have to work when he's asleep."

"Nah, he won't be. He'll think your sleeping during the day 'cause you're still sick."

"Oh, Great! Like that's a good thing? He's already driving me crazy."

"Geez, I can't believe what a wuss you are."

"I like living."

"Okay, okay. Here's what I'm going to do."

Brief explanation. Laughter.

"So you'll do it?"

More laughter. "Yeah, I'll do it."

TB TB TB TB TB

"What are you doing?" John's voice startled Alan so badly that his hands smacked down on the computer keyboard creating gibberish in the careful lines of code he was writing.

'Shit.' "Um, nothing."

"Right. Nothing. It's one in the morning, and you're at the computer, doing nothing." John raised his eyebrows.

"I couldn't sleep," Alan lied desperately. Actually, he'd had a hard time prying himself awake.

"Don't dig yourself a deeper hole," John advised as he leaned over Alan's shoulder to look at what he was doing. He paused, then looked closer. Then he looked at Alan.

"Is this what I think it is?" He looked at his younger brother.

Alan had a look of desperation about him. Figuring it was better not to incriminate himself, he hunched a little in his chair and waited.

"Did Gordon put you up to this?" John asked, fighting a grin. "Had to have. This has him written all over it."

Alan looked at him sideways.

"This is great!" John exclaimed, laughing out loud. "How long has it been going on?"

Alan straightened up in surprise. "What . . .?"

John pulled up another chair and sat down next to him. "How about adding a random variable here . . ." He elaborated.

Alan looked for a second at where he was pointing, then started to snicker. "Perfect!" he laughed, and began to type.

TB TB TB TB TB

The rescue klaxon went off, summoning all team members to their posts. Scott growled to himself as levered himself off the patio lounge chair. At eighty degrees, it was cooler out here than in his sitting room. Somehow, the climate control in his sitting room was haywire, and it was stuck at about one hundred in there. So now he was stuck trying to work out here with Virgil and Gordon playing water volley ball in the pool next to him. Talk about distracting. Especially when the ball kept landing in his lap. It happened enough that he thought it was more deliberate than not, but not enough that he could really call them on it. Little brothers were demons from hell. Especially when you had four of them, although most of the time, John and Virgil didn't count.

But, they were all business as they headed at a run towards the command and control center. Slowing, each headed towards their individual portrait. Jeff was already waiting in the tube behind his. Gordon's and Virgil's rose automatically as they walked through. But Scott walked right into his.

"What the . . .: Scott stepped back, rubbing his nose from it's run-in with his life sized portrait. The other three craned their heads to look at him, puzzled.

"Quit clowning Scott," his father snapped.

"I'm not. The portrait didn't rise!" Scott answered, pushing on it.

Jeff shook his head in exasperation. "Well, catch up with us as soon as you can." Jeff stated the voice command that activated the lifts, "Thunderbirds are go!"

As the rest of the teams portraits closed and he heard them disappear, Scott's finally opened. "Good grief . . " he growled as he disappeared into it.

"I'll, uh, check it out, uh, later," Brains said, manually activating Scott's lift.

Scott frowned at him in annoyance as the portrait slammed shut and he disappeared.

TB TB TB TB TB

"It's fine!"

"No, it's not. Half the time it doesn't work." Scott glared at Virgil, then at his portrait door again.

"Well, it's working now," Gordon pointed out, as Scott walked forward again, and the portrait door opened.

"I swear, Gordon, if you've had something to do with this . . ." Scott glared at his brother.

"How could I have done this?" Gordon asked in dumbfounded amazement. "I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Virgil shrugged. "He's right, Scott. It's just a random glitch."

Scott growled something rude under his breath.

TB TB TB TB TB

"It was perfect."

"Really?"

"You should have seen it."

"Good."

"The random bit was inspired. How'd you do that?"

"I didn't. John did."

"John?"

"Yeah."

"You told John? What, are you suicidal?"

"No, he caught me. Told you he would."

"You sound pretty calm about it."

"I'm alive aren't I?"

". . . Yeah . . . well, for now."

"Shut up."

"Seriously."

"John thought it was hysterical."

"He did?"

"He pegged you immediately."

"But he thought it was funny, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"But you're still dead."

"Maybe."

Silence.

"Okay, well, if I'm dead, I'd better finish."

"When?"

"Tonight. I have to do it when he's sleeping."

"He doesn't sleep much."

"I know, I know."

"Don't tell John."

"Too late, I heard."

"&)#&(#."

TB TB TB TB TB

Scott finally wandered out to the research lab at about five am. Never a heavy sleeper to begin with, the climate control in his quarters was making him crazy. It was fluctuating within a forty degree range, and had been all night. He'd get Brains to look at it later. Now at least, he could work on the new communications module for mobile control while it was quiet. And cool.

Scott punched in his access code, but the door didn't open. Using language his father would have been very unhappy to hear, he did it again. Again, it didn't open. Taking a deep breath, he tried one more time. The door slid obediently open. Counting to ten, Scott finally calmed and walked into the research lab. Cool air, at last.

Starting the coffee maker, hoping that a cup of high octane caffeine would wake him up, he turned towards the module he was working on. It took him a couple of minutes to realize that the coffee machine hadn't shut off. And coffee was beginning to stream over the side toward the electronics all over the workbench. He grabbed a towel and dumped it on the stream of liquid and yanked the plug on the computerized machine. Then danced as he realized he was standing barefooted in a puddle of hot coffee.

He stood deep breathing for a couple of minutes. Okay, he was okay now. That is until he booted up the computer and smoke instantly filled the room. Diving for the fire extinguisher, he coated the computer, workbench and coffee pot until the smoke cleared, only then noticing the smoke bomb on a trigger device attached to the computer. By that time the rest of the inhabitants of the island had responded to the smoke alarms and were standing in the doorway, looking on in various stages of disbelief and awe.

"Wow, Scott, um, this is a new look for you," Gordon said, looking at the destroyed remains of the workbench with a shake of his head. "I thought it was Alan who liked working in chaos."

"What is going on?" Jeff asked dangerously.

"Man, Scott, I haven't seen you destroy computers like this since school," Virgil said in amazement.

And with that comment, the penny dropped. "GORDON!" Scott yelled and dove for his brother. "I don't know how you heard about it. Or how you did it. But you are DEAD!"

Gordon was long gone by the time Scott cleared the door. Jeff and Virgil stepped back out of the way, letting Scott charge through unhindered.

"I don't know about you, but my money's on Scott," Virgil commented to his father.

Jeff laughed and shook his head. "No bet."


End file.
